


Encounters

by Sweetbriar15



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Alliances, Brotherhood of Mutants, Child Neglect, Complicated Relationships, Control Issues, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Gen, Mutant Powers, Pre-Relationship, Rivalry, Surprises, Trust Issues, X-Men (Team) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetbriar15/pseuds/Sweetbriar15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance runs into Kitty twice on their first day at Bayville High.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Encounters

The sky was just brightening when Lance Alvers made his way back to the house, a grocery bag in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. He sipped the weak brew with a grimace, recalling the finely ground grains of a home from two years ago. It had been worth getting caught by his foster mom a couple of times, just to wake up in the morning with a cup of that Joe.

A crisp morning breeze swirled around him, making him shiver slightly. The sun was barely touching the horizon, school still about an hour away. Lance was relaxed as he walked, his ground-eating stride carrying him down a deserted street. He paused at the corner to take in the looming, gray two-story house he lived in now. Another stop on another road, in another town where he wasn't wanted—  _No_ , he corrected himself silently.  _I'm wanted here. I'm even wanted for the reason that I_ wasn't _wanted everywhere else. Who'd have thought?_ He shook his head as his feet carried him up the steps.

Letting himself into the house, Lance noted that it was still eerily silent. He had been surprised to find that he enjoyed the near-silence offered by living in a house with only a few other people. He'd never had the luxury of such an unpacked living space. As he moved toward the kitchen, he had the feeling he wasn't the only one up anymore. Sure enough, his nose wrinkled before he even entered the room. Todd Tolanski glanced away from a moldy  _something_  and gave him a forced-casual nod. "Yo."

Lance wrinkled his nose at the flies buzzing around the whatever-it-was on the plate. "That reeks. You want some real food?" he offered, holding up the bag. His new "guardian" had kindly informed him that he had a small weekly allowance. (Then she had handed over a checkbook, bills, and all kinds of accompanying paperwork. The required independence had given him a strange sense of satisfaction.) He'd gone out that morning to shamelessly splurge a little bit of "his" money to get breakfast.

Opening the bag, he offered one of the donuts to Todd. The frog-like mutant tilted his head to the side and eyed the chocolate-covered confection, before accepting it with an oddly quiet word of thanks. Lance turned a blind eye on the uncharacteristic display of manners, turning to the fridge to tuck away the few other groceries he'd snagged for their dinner that night.

"Can you believe this setup?" he asked, starting conversation to fill the time. _I've never lived in better conditions._  "Hot water, air conditioning, comfortable beds—"

"Not to mention food," Todd agreed.

 _I was right,_ Lance thought.  _He's like me—probably just a foster kid, though._ "And the budget is more than enough for three people." He frowned thoughtfully as he turned to face Todd's curious gaze. "I think that she's expecting more than just us. Seems like we'd have a lot left over every month otherwise."

Todd's eyes lit up, like a kid in a hardware store. (Or candy store. Lance never remembered those weird little sayings quite right.) "That'd be nice."

The expression on Todd's face was enough evidence to confirm Lance's suspicions. Todd was one of those foster kids who'd had his real family longer than he'd been in the system. He was still naïve about the world compared more hardened kids, but disillusioned enough that he understood basic principles of life that every kid like Lance knew as law. He'd be more idealistic than the kids that Lance was used to, but that was fine. He'd be okay—

 _Oh, no—no, I'm not doing that again._  Lance realized where his thoughts were going. _He's not a normal human—he's a mutant. He's got abilities and can take care of himself. He doesn't need me to do that for him._ Trying vainly to distract himself, he gave Todd a good once-over. Despite appearing unhealthy, Todd also looked a lot younger than he previously thought. "How old are you?"

"How old are  _you_?" came the defensive reply.

"Seventeen." In about a month, he'd be eighteen. Moving from home to home had pushed him back in schooling, so he was just starting junior year at Bayville.

Lance couldn't decipher the new expression on Todd's face for a moment, until he answered, "I'm fifteen."  _It's respect._ How odd, when he hadn't earned it yet by establishing himself as "top dog" in the house. Then again…he glanced at the plastic bag clutched in his hand. Maybe he had.

"You a freshman?" he asked, plucking the second donut out of the bag and crumpling the plastic into a ball.  _He's probably been in and out of school a lot, too._

"Yeah," came the confirmation of his assumption. "I've been in this town a while," Todd added. "I can show you the ropes of the school, yo. You'll want some info before wading into X-geek territory."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Ek-eek?" he mumbled around a mouthful of red jelly and icing.

"She didn't warn you?" Todd shook his head, seeming confused by Lance's ignorance. "The X-geeks live at Xavier's Institute. They're mutants, too—but run around doing good deeds like a buncha weird superheroes."

 _That sounds…interesting._ Lance wasn't sure what this meant for him, and although he hated to admit that he didn't know something, he banked on the information being more important than his pride. "So, what, you don't like them? They don't like you?" The way Todd spoke about them, it sounded like there was mutual dislike.

"Boss Lady thinks Xavier's out to get her, yo. I went to check it out on her orders—and man, they're  _insane_. I was invited by Summers, but they freakin' attacked when I got there with high-tech security and mutant powers and all!" Todd shook his head, readjusting his crouch on the chair. "They definitely don't want no kid from our side of the street, man, that's for sure."

Lance grunted.  _That's hardly surprising. I was already suspicious of our setup, but now it's definite._  "So what does this team look like?"

"They've got baldy in a wheelchair—that's Xavier—and this scary white-haired…"

He was stuck on the image of a man in a wheelchair. _No way._  But it made sense, didn't it? If this Xavier guy had built up his team, he would have searched for mutants…  _Well, there's more confirmation that I'm the wrong kind of kid._ Lance recalled the image in his mind's eye: the professor faintly, but unmistakably, outlined by a collapsed building, and sitting beside a perky, pretty Valley girl—  _No. So not going there, not today._

"…new member, but I didn't get a good look at 'er. Anyway, we should be moving," Todd said, glancing up at the clock. "Donuts were good, yo, but you get free, hot breakfast there if you show up at seven."

"Cool. We signed up for free lunches, too?" Lance certainly had no money, and he didn't feel like bringing lunch to school with him every day. It was dorky, not to mention an engraved invitation for someone to steal it.

Todd shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't eat much besides insects, yo. I think it's part of my mutation—I can't handle a whole lotta real food without getting sick." He grinned over his shoulder as he hopped toward the door. "You know the way?"

Lance grabbed the bag he'd dropped by the front door earlier that morning. "Kind of. We passed it on the way here." He'd been driving them, because he wanted his Jeep in this new town. It was his only possession that couldn't be backed into his duffel at the first sign of trouble, but that didn't make it mean any less to him.

He locked the door on his way out, pausing to check that the spare key was tucked into the porch before walking around his car. Lance had already made it clear that driving to school was a less desirable option, considering gas was a luxury that he wouldn't always be able to afford. Plus, the school was maybe a mile and a half away—an easy enough walk.

Sure enough, it was easy. In fact, it was almost enjoyable. Todd hopped along beside him, sticking toward the inside of the sidewalk. They talked every now and then, but most of the walk was spent in comfortable silence. Lance wasn't concerned about starting at yet another new school, so he didn't bother trying to distract himself. And Todd seemed more than adjusted to the school, despite Lance's surety that the younger boy had also experienced the system for an extended period of time. Their pace was slow, since they didn't have to make it for breakfast, and they reached the school around seven-twenty.

It was a typical school for the suburban area. Country's flag, along with faded school one? Check. Stone, concrete and/or message-board sign labeling it as 'Bayville High School'? Check. Parking lot filled with expensive cars, the cheaper and more-used ones sticking out like sore thumbs? Check. There was even a shiny red sports car, right near the front.  _Sure sign of a goody-two-shoes early bird—the kind who doesn't show up for the free food._

"The bell rings at seven-thirty." Lance nodded when Todd glanced up at him for confirmation. "The office is right there, on the left. Cafeteria's down the right hall—I'll meet you there for lunch. And now…I'm going to go chill until class starts. And maybe even after class starts." He hopped away after giving Lance an encouraging grin.

 _Well, that was more or less expected._ Sighing, Lance turned his attention to the large, tan building.  _Another school. Well, at least I'm still_ in _school. That counts for something._  He'd rather not be a nameless, faceless kid from the wrong side of the street for the rest of his life—

He shook his head.  _I gotta cut that out._  Lance could think about his secret desires later. Right now, he had stuff to do.

Making his way up the stone steps of the school, Lance pushed open the doors and found himself inside a school that looked almost exactly like the one he had left the week before. The only noticeable differences were the school colors and mascot.  _Just another school,_ he repeated to himself as he trudged along, heading for the doorway on the left.

He pushed open the door and slipped into the room, tugging his bag around so that he could pull out the papers his new guardian had handed him and demanded back on his first day (complete, of course).

Lance was so caught up that he failed to pay attention to the three other people standing at the front desk. He caught the deep tenor of a male voice thanking the secretary before registering that he wasn't the only one in the office. Then a female voice—definitely  _not_ the secretary's—chimed in, "Like, thanks for all your help!"

He froze. Blinked. Lifted his head while the rest of his body remained frozen in an awkward grab for the papers that had so far eluded his fingers.

She was turning when she spoke, affording her with a view of him just after she'd finished talking. She looked just like he remembered: sleek brown hair, tied back in a ponytail; pale, creamy skin; sparkling brown eyes; pastel, peppy clothes; slim figure, petite stature, and a total lack of self-confidence in her every movement. She blinked at him, as uncomprehending as he, himself. He faintly registered the man in the wheelchair, and the tall boy with sunglasses, and even the sweater-wearing secretary, but their presence in the room dimmed in comparison to hers. It was like every moment he had spent thinking about her for the past days had brought her to life, right in front of him.

_Holy shit. Kitty?_

He gaped for a second longer before bursting out, "What are you  _doing_  here?"

As if she were on his same wavelength, at the same time he spoke she was echoing his words. "What are  _you_  doing here?"

They simultaneously blinked, and then spoke again. " _Me_? What about  _you_?"

He stopped talking.

She mirrored the action, grasping her books closer to her chest. Her face transformed from bewilderment to a scowl—a heavy scowl, one that had no place on her delicate, sweet face. But neither of them had the chance to say anything more, as at that moment, the principal's door opened and she stepped out into the room, tan folder in hand. She wore a steel gray skirt and matching jacket, the shirt underneath a crisply pressed white. Her hair was dark and short, and heavy, rectangular black glasses framed her face. Her dark eyes flared and her lips thinned in distaste.

Before, Lance would have thought that this was because of him, and every little bit of his past. Now, he wondered if it was because his new guardian seemed to have a thing against— _holy crap._ His eyes flickered to the man in the wheelchair, even as he straightened at the presence of his new "foster mom".  _How the hell did I miss that? Where else would Kitty have gone, but with him? And now…_  Now she was one of those X-geeks Todd had warned him about.  _Fantastic. This just gets better and better._

Stunned by his realization, he heard Ms. Darkholme with half an ear as she snarled, "Mr. Alvers, were you planning to announce your presence at all, or is it simply your goal to make my morning difficult?"

The harshness rubbed his attitude the wrong way, and he refocused on her with a defiant, straight stare. "I just got here, Ms. Darkholme."

She snorted. "Late, then, as I told you to be here at seven-fifteen.  _And_ you are well aware of my title in this school. Not a promising start from you—but then again, I was expecting as much." Completely ignoring the degrading manner in which she spoke to him, she refocused her attention on the wheelchair-bound man. "Professor Xavier, I'm sure that you need nothing from me today."

Xavier gave her a level look that Lance couldn't help but briefly admire—as he edged his way toward his guardian, wary of making her even angrier. "No, I'm here helping a new student of mine register. Kitty, Scott, why don't you head on to class," he gestured for them to go, "and I will be out of your way, Principal Darkholme."

She grunted. Lance's eyes flickered back and forth at the power play between the two, slightly disturbed by it.  _She really doesn't like him, but it's not personal or she would have made some kind of dig. She's just being blatantly rude. That's odd._ He couldn't figure out what would lead to that kind of animosity.

The sudden sense that there was someone watching him drew Lance's eyes directly to Xavier. He tensed, unsure why he suddenly felt as if he had to be on guard, but the feeling passed quickly. Xavier wheeled out of the room, and Darkholme stepped back and gestured abruptly for Lance to enter her office.

He did so, feeling a prickle of unease crawl up the back of his neck.

* * *

_I can't believe this. What is he_ doing _here? He's not supposed to be here! He stayed in Northbrook!_ But obviously, that wasn't the case.

Kitty rolled her tense shoulders, staring blankly into the locker. All her books were lined up, everything stored neatly away. But she barely saw the interior of her locker. Her mind's eye filled her vision, imposing the image of his face in front of her eyes. That tanned, masculine face, with dark, longish hair, deep eyes, and a smirk that was dangerous and smug…

She shook her head. She had been attracted to him, sure—in Northbrook, she had been the nerdy girl and every other girl hated her brains. Honors classes, popularity among the teachers, and being in sophomore and junior classes despite being a freshmen were surefire ways to be an outsider. Being seen as a nerd had afforded her very little attention from guys, and Lance had been the first boy to pay real attention to her. Not to mention the scariness of dealing with her mutant ability and all that.

The problem was that she had trusted him, and he had totally, completely betrayed her. She recalled quite clearly the way the roof had caved in over her head.

Other, little memories tickled in the back of her mind, but she steadfastly ignored them, trying her hardest to keep them from coming to the forefront of her mind. She closed the door of her locker firmly, keeping her eyes downcast as she made her way through the school.

Scott had been nice enough, after she explained who Lance was. He had offered to "have a word with him" and, when she refused, had a look on his face that suggested he would be protecting her anyway. On one hand, she was grateful. On the other… An image of Lance's smile, the sensory memory of his strong arms wrapped around her, of the rumble of his voice as her ear pressed against his chest—

She grimaced.  _Don't think that._ She couldn't think about that.  _He betrayed me. He_ used _me._

Kitty had spent the entirety of her first two class periods trying (and failing) not to think about him. His mere presence in the school was more than enough to distract her from her first classes at Bayville High. Even if she couldn't see him, he was  _there._

She exhaled slowly as she entered her third period, Chemistry. Whatever distractions he presented, she had to stop dwelling, now. Her one saving grace was that she was a freshman, and Lance was obviously older than her. The chances of them having classes together were slim to none, and this was one of two she had in which he might show up in. As the lone freshman in a class of upper-level students, she was prepared for prejudice because of her age before she reached the school that morning. Now, of course, her stomach was in knots as she anxiously wondered whether he would be here or not.

And she was disgusted with herself when she couldn't tell if the butterflies were there because she didn't want him to be there—or because she did want him there.

The teacher took her schedule to sign off on it, raising an eyebrow in interest at her grade level. No further comment was made, and Kitty slipped into the back of the room. Sitting near the front was never in her plan for class seating arrangements. Slowly, the classroom began to fill up. The butterflies in her stomach began to disappear as a certain teenage delinquent failed to show up. They were replaced with a slightly hollow feeling, one that she attempted to ignore. The teacher passed out a syllabus, and Kitty was skimming over the two-page printout when the door opened, five minutes into class.

She glanced up out of curiosity, and froze.  _Oh, God, why do you hate me?_

She should've known. He  _would_  show up late, making her think that he wasn't in this class. He  _would_  stride into the room with a slight smirk on his face, holding his own class schedule and not even pretending to be shy about his tardiness. The teacher frowned, but again refrained from commenting. Lance's paper was quickly signed, he was handed a syllabus, and he was told to go sit in the back with Miss Pryde—

 _God, you really, really hate me. What is_ up _with this?_ Fate was against her. The world hated her and wanted her to be miserable. Of freakin' course, he  _would_  be told to sit next to her. And she just  _had_  put her bag on the seat, preventing anyone else from sitting there. She had actually been happy that no one asked to sit beside her, that she was the only one without a tablemate. Why hadn't she used her  _brain_?

She steadfastly ignored his gaze as he made his way to the back of the room. She didn't notice the way his eyes were locked on her face—first in surprise, then in something funny that she couldn't name, before a cool mask covered his emotions from her.  _What is he thinking—no, Kitty, no. Don't. I'm not looking at him, remember?_ Oh, it would be so much easier to claim that she ignored him if she weren't so keenly aware of every movement he made!

He pulled out the chair next to her and sat with quiet grace— _completely ignoring_ her. He didn't even glance at her. There was no spark of recognition, no subtle "hi" or dig at her about their shared past. It was as if she were a stranger he had no interest in. She squirmed a little in her seat. So he thought that he could ignore her, did he? Well, she'd see about that!

She twisted her upper body toward his a little, knowing the power of body language. He didn't move. She opened a notebook and scribbled notes off the syllabus aimlessly. His arms stayed folded across his chest, his own packet lying forgotten on the desk. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder, playing with the strands with one hand. His eyes stayed riveted on the front of the classroom. She sighed faintly, too low for anyone further than him to hear. He didn't so much as twitch his head in her direction.

Kitty became more frustrated as she failed to get a reaction out of him.  _There's no way he doesn't know how badly he hurt me. He totally used me, and now he wants to sit here and ignore me and pretend he doesn't know me? I don't think so! If I have to sit next to him in this classroom for the rest of the year, then I am going to know what the heck he was thinking back in Northbrook!_

With that, she began to form a verbal attack plan.

* * *

The teacher lectured away, but not a single word stayed in Lance's head. It all went in one ear and out the other. Despite this blatant disregard for the importance of this little introductory lecture to Chemistry, Lance did not have a short attention span. Rather, the focus of all his senses was seated in the chair beside him.

It had been almost frightening to turn from the teacher's desk after showing up late for class, only to realize that "Miss Pryde" was Kitty. He toyed around with the idea of fate hating him for a few moments as he made the trek to the very back of the classroom. Then he decided that it had to be that way, because of the expression on her face as he sat. He was careful not to let his eyes stray to her anymore, lest he glimpse that narrow-eyed gaze again. But he was acutely aware of every inch of her rigid form on the seat beside his, of the distrust that practically spilled off her in waves.

And then she wouldn't stop  _moving_. It was as if she had to fidget every few seconds—twisting in her chair, scribbling away in a notebook, playing with her hair, making the faintest little sighs or murmurs. It was the little sounds she emitted that made him feel like a sex-obsessed boy—did the girl have  _any_  idea just how sexy that moan was? Or that biting her lip unconsciously, the way she was doing now as her eyes went unfocused and she stared out the window…did she realize how that made her look, at all?

She was there to torture him. It was so simple an explanation that he couldn't believe he hadn't realized it before.

He had known she was pretty, back in Northbrook, but he was so focused on getting the money that he had purposefully ignored her youthful innocence. She was everything that he wasn't—two parents, a comfortable home and a nearly perfect life. And she probably didn't even consider how lucky she was. Working with Pete and Griff to make money had been his only source of income. None of the shops in town had been willing to hire him, when he was half-living on the streets and couldn't give them a permanent home address—not without them offering him food stamps instead of a job. Or calling CPS, which had been a close call that he'd paid for later. The skin on his shoulder tingled at the memory.

But how could he possibly explain all that to her? His life was a freakin' sob story, and he wasn't about to use it as an excuse. It was private, and none of her business, really. And she was just a pretty girl…one who had stayed on his mind for at least a week now, one whom he just couldn't seem to get out of his head. That didn't make her really special, did it?

He'd never allowed himself to get really involved with any girl. People in general just wanted things from you, and other kids on the street were the same. He'd had a few flings, gotten some experience, but it hadn't meant much. He vaguely remembered blond hair, or cocoa skin, or a sad smile that made him feel slightly disgusted with himself. He wasn't proud of "conquests" or any ridiculous crap like that—seeking a few hours of pleasure instead of dwelling in his own horrible life wasn't the most horrible thing he could do, was it?

And yet, with this innocent little girl, he found himself more caught up in her than he'd ever been with anyone else. He couldn't even hear the blather of the instructor at the front of the room. There was just something so different about her that he could barely keep his eyes focused away from her profile.

The bell rang, breaking through the hazy cloud that had surrounded his mind. Right—on to lunch. The hour with Kitty was up.

A sudden fear gripped him. What if she asked to transfer to another class? Or if she just dropped this one altogether? She didn't look like the ditching type, but if she was desperate enough to get away from him… He glanced at her, finally breaking his gaze completely off the front of the room.

And sucked in a sharp breath of air. She was staring right at him, her face composed and angry.

But when their eyes met… Something in her face shifted. Confusion flickered in her eyes, and her set mouth lost its hard edge. She struggled to pull her expression back together, but he could tell she was no expert at creating a serious, emotionless face.

Some strange compulsion seized him. Maybe it was because of her expression, maybe because their earlier encounter in the office had gone so disastrously. Whatever the reason, he blurted, "I'm sorry."

Bewilderment flashed across her face. "What?" She had clearly been expecting him to say something else.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, tugging his backpack back onto his shoulder. "That's what you wanted to hear, right?" That "bad attitude" that adults complained about snaked its way into his voice.

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you even mean that?" she asked snidely.

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I do, actually."  _I'm not some mindless bully,_  he wanted to say. "That was one of many stupid things I've done."

"That? It's just "that", now?" Her face was slowly darkening, turning into a thundercloud.

He had a feeling he had trapped himself. "Fine. Sorry I lost my temper and dropped a roof on your head."  _And her parents, too, don't forget that._

"Yeah, you should be." Her fingers clutched her notebook with a white-knuckled grip. "Just…don't talk to me, all right? I may have to sit with you in this class, but that doesn't mean we're going to get along or anything."

His temper flared again. The way she said it reminded his strongly of Stepford-wife foster mom number eight, who thought she was entitled to everything under the sun (and then some). That peppy, demanding voice that commanded everything rightfully hers. That selfish—and assured of her utter  _rightness_ —tone…  _God, she is like every other person on the planet, isn't she?_

The tiles of the classroom floor shuddered as the earth itself reacted to his sudden anger, and Kitty took a step back in shock. He hadn't even realized that they had risen to their feet, their voices quiet and hushed as the rest of the class milled out the doorway. He came back to himself, locking his expression tightly in place and trying to quell the anger.  _No earthquakes right now,_  he tried to say to the ground, but he had to leave now if he didn't want it to erupt into a full-blown 'quake. He treated Kitty to a single word—"Fine."—before turning his back on her. If she didn't want him to pay any attention to her, then he wouldn't, plain and simple. He didn't even look back as he stalked out of the classroom.

He made it about halfway down the hall before he spotted sunglasses-boy walking his way, with that redhead. His eyes narrowed, but he made sure his expression remained perfectly in place. Red's eyes went wide just as she saw him, and he was about to give her a grin (just because) when a hand closed around his elbow.

Whipping around, his eyes went wide when he saw Kitty standing there. She looked frightened and confused, but also strangely determined. She leaned in close to hiss, "Don't you ever do that again."

"I told you before," he hissed back, "that I lost my temper. I'm so sorry for not being in control." His pointed look made her settle back on her heels.

Kitty's eyes reflected faint pain at the well-aimed barb, but it was more…what was that? "Right. Well, since you're making so many apologies, then I guess I have one to make, too." She took a deep breath, and somehow, somehow, he knew.

He cut her off. "Don't." She scowled in anger. "I get it, I betrayed you, and you hate me." Her eyes widened. "I deserve it and we both know it. Now if we're all done here, I have lunch to get to, and you've got a team coming this way."

Lance brushed around her, pulling his arm out of her grip with ease. He hated drawing out conversations or skirting around the main topic. And he especially didn't want to be trapped into a guilt trip by Kitty. He already knew what he did wrong, and why, and it wasn't worth it to tear the situation to pieces with her.

If she just stayed out of his life from here on out, he'd be perfectly happy.


End file.
